Invasion (Blue Star Marines Book 3) Read online

  Leadership was not easy. It was often a hateful task. Featherstone did not bear it lightly, but he bore it well.

  “New signal coming in,” Jim Hemel said from the pilot’s seat. “Moving in fast from the Sphere. It’s coming from the direction of the mining facility.”

  “Contact the facility,” Featherstone said, watching the feeds from the attack on the Fall closely. “Just check that we didn’t leave a heavy behind.”

  “Sending communication now,” Knole said.

  Featherstone looked over at Knole. The communication officer was tapping away furiously at the controls.

  “Is there a problem, Mr. Knole?”

  “Sending comms again.” Knole resent the communication, expecting a connection signal. “There is a problem, sir,” Knole said. “There is no connection.”

  “Why would that be?” Featherstone said. He walked over to his command chair to check the transmission.

  “The communications at the facility are offline, or, they’ve lost power.”

  “There’s no way they could’ve lost power. A facility that size has a hundred independent backups.” Featherstone looked down at Knole’s readout.

  “Scanning the facility’s location directly,” Knole said. “This can’t be right. I don’t have the coordinates wrong. I’m scanning the right area, sir. It looks like…it’s gone.”

  “What do you mean, gone?” Featherstone checked the scans.

  “Sir,” Hemel said. “The incoming signal. It’s no Union heavy. Look.”

  Featherstone looked up at the holo-stage. The ship moving in was vast, a huge dark oval bristling with kilometer-long rapiers that protruded out from the hull in all directions. The monolith was flanked by ships that Featherstone recognized—several Skarak warships dwarfed by a much larger vessel. The warships were familiar, all identical. Long, bulbous body fronted with a cluster of hundred-meter-long rapiers.

  Then the warships’ rapier clusters began to glow blue as they activated their crackle beams. The Skarak were attacking the Union heavies as they attempted to scatter.

  “Sergeant Dorik,” Featherstone said, the channel to the Blue Star sergeant opening instantly. “Withdraw your Marines immediately. Back to the Resolute. The Skarak. They are here.”

  6

  The Skarak warships moved ahead of the much larger mastership and blocked the fleeing heavies. The lumbering freighters scattering from the initial Faction attack now dodged back from the Skarak warships. The maneuvers were futile. The Skarak ships struck out with their crackle beams, blue energy flickering in jagged lines across the black of space and connecting with the Union freighters.

  Featherstone watched the attack with cold detachment. He needed to get his Marines back aboard before he could do anything. He was not going to abandon the cream of the Blue Star Battalion to the void. He watched as a Union heavy lost all power. Its external lights blinked off. The ship adrift, listing to one side. The attacking Skarak warship moved on to the next target.

  The mastership, a craft bigger than the largest Union carrier, moved with frightening speed for a ship its size, covering the distance to the stricken freighter in moments. A section of the massive ship opened, and the freighter was drawn inside by a wide energy beam.

  “They are snatching the freighters,” Knole said. He looked over to Featherstone, his face pale.

  “Gather all the data you can, Mr. Knole,” Featherstone said. “We wait for Sergeant Dorik and his team before we move.”

  “We have men approaching the Resolute, sir,” Knole said, looking back to his sensor console. “Nearing the airlock.”

  “Dorik and his team?” Featherstone said.

  Knole looked up. “No, sir. Faction troopers. They are going to board us.”

  “Intruder alert,” Featherstone said. He walked to his command chair and took the pulse pistol from the small cabinet in the armrest. “Seal all internal bulkheads. Defend the drive room. Seal off the command deck. Get me Dorik right now.”

  Sergeant Dorik was leaping out of the Fall’s airlock and into the void. The blue crackle beams from the Skarak warships slammed into the freighters far to his left. The blue beams were fierce and near blinding even from this great distance. They lit up the huge, dark shape of the Skarak mastership that was looming over everything like a small moon.

  “This is Dorik,” he responded to Featherstone. “I can see the Faction troopers. They are at the airlock. Hold them off for as long as you can. I’ll deal with them myself when I get to the Resolute. ETA, three minutes.”

  Dorik pushed his suit’s thrusters to max and closed in on the Resolute. He brought up his pulse pistol and steadied his aim using both hands on the weapon. A trooper at the airlock was lit up by the hatch’s lights. Dorik fired. A pulse round appeared to creep across space until it slammed into the trooper. The trooper’s arms spread out with the impact, his weapon lost, tumbling out of his hand and drifting away.

  The rest of Dorik’s team opened fire. The troopers at the airlock turned and fired, but it was useless. They were hopelessly out-skilled. Dorik and the Blue Stars were trained for zero-gravity engagements and were deadly in the environment. The troopers were little more than violent thugs.

  The troopers, knowing the fight was lost, began to scatter, rushing to get out of the way of the Marines bearing down on them.

  “They will try and get back to their ship,” Dorik said. He blinked as a pulse round fizzed past him. “I’ll give a bottle of Amber to the Blue Star Marine that clocks up the most kills.”

  Bellini looked over Perov’s shoulder as he tried again to hack the Resolute’s data systems.

  “I just can’t get in,” Perov said.

  “Why do I keep you on board?” Bellini snarled.

  Then Perov saw a minor chink in the Union ship’s data system armor: access to the ship’s manifest. It was not the defensive systems access that Bellini had asked for, but it was something. It might either send the captain into a rage or it might make him think he’d won a victory. Perov glanced at the status of the Fall’s drive. The engineering team was close to getting a workaround and the drive would surely be available soon.

  “What’s that?” Bellini said.

  “We have access to their crew manifest. Downloading all now. They don’t have a captain, their commanding officer is a Blue Star major. Major Charles Featherstone.”

  Bellini scoffed. “Sounds like a typical Union scroat.”

  Perov let the images of the Resolute’s crew flicker across the holo-display. Bellini was staring intently. Then one image flashed by and a spark of recognition struck Perov. He stopped the image.

  “Why’d you stop on him?” Bellini said. “Found a Union friend? Someone to keep you warm? I always had my doubts about you, Perov.”

  “I’ve seen him somewhere before,” Perov said.

  Bellini grabbed Perov by the back of the neck and shoved his head forward roughly. “How do you know a Union Blue Star? Have you been talking to the Union?”

  “No, boss,” Perov said. “Course not. I’m Faction all day long, boss. But I’ve seen this scroat before.”

  Bellini looked at the image.

  “Sergeant Will Boyd? Never heard of him.”

  The ship’s main power came back online, and lights flickered on across the flight deck. The main holo-stage lit up and showed the Skarak attacks—all focused on the freighters and the Resolute only a few hundred meters away.

  “Get us out of here,” Bellini said. “Move, while the Union ship is distracted. We can let the Skarak finish off the convoy. Successful job, I’d say.”

  “We’ve got troopers making their way back to the ship,” Ramil said.

  “I said move it,” Bellini said, pushing himself off the back of Perov’s chair. He walked over to the command chair. “Get us out of here. Now.”

  The Blue Stars closed in on the Resolute, the Faction troopers giving them a wide berth. Pulse rounds flickered between the groups. Dorik hit another trooper and then la
nded on the hull of the Resolute. He waved his Marines in. The troopers had turned tail and were heading back to their ship.

  Dorik sent them on their way with a barrage of pulse rounds. The troopers were out of range and the pulse rounds fizzled out of energy before reaching them.

  The drive field of the Fall burst back into life and the Faction ship leapt away, leaving a tumbling group of troopers in her wake.

  “All Blues Star Marines are safely back aboard, sir,” Knole said. “The Faction raider has left. We are detecting men in the void.”

  Featherstone looked at the holo-image. The few tiny points of light representing the abandoned Faction troopers were only a few hundred meters away. A few kilometers away, the Skarak warships were attacking another freighter. Featherstone knew his duty was to the Union freighters first.

  “Combat drones,” the major said, “full load. Put one in the lead warship and try to distract it from that freighter. Send the rest into that mastership. Message all other freighters. Reform convoy and head with all speed to Supra. The planetary defenses will give us cover, if we can get there in time.”

  “Message away,” Knole said.”

  “The Skarak, they are ignoring us, sir,” Hemel said. “Should we move to attack?”

  Featherstone looked at the Skarak. The mastership was moving in and gathering up another freighter, drawing the massive heavy into the vast opening in its hull.

  The combat drones slammed into the first Skarak warship. The blast sent a shimmer of energy along its hull, the material appearing to ripple from the force. White waves of energy soaked into the hull. The rest of the salvo slammed into the mastership.

  “The outer hull of that Skarak mastership,” Knole said, his hands moving over the surveillance console, “I can’t get a fix on it. The blast from the combat drone, I have a visual confirmation but no energy data. It’s like the hull isn’t there, just the explosion.”

  The lead warship turned away from the freighter target as another combat drone slammed into it.

  “It’s turning away,” Hemel said. “She’s running. Pursuit course, sir?”

  “No,” Featherstone said. “They are ignoring us completely.” He watched as a second warship moved up and attacked the freighter with the blue crackle beam.

  Dorik entered the command deck followed by Doc Cronin.

  “Permission to take my station, sir,” Dorik said. He still had his suit on, his helmet under his arm.

  Featherstone looked at Dorik, who appeared no worse for his exertion. “Take your station, Sergeant. You okay, Doc?” he said to Cronin.

  Cronin nodded and took his position at the weapons console.

  Featherstone nodded his approval and looked back to the attack on the convoy.

  The remaining ships of the convoy were moving off. The warships moved in on the trailing freighter—the blue beam lancing forward, disabling all power across the freighter.

  Featherstone held his ground. The remaining seven ships of the convoy were heading away, the Resolute between them and the Skarak. The Resolute lashed out with high-energy lasers and mass beam, her spitz guns pouring thousands of pulses into the Skarak hull.

  “We’ve lost our deflection shielding, sir,” Knole reported. “Stability shielding fluctuating. We’re losing it. We’ll be defenseless.”

  A Skarak warship broke away from the mastership and moved in on the Resolute.

  “Sergeant Dorik.” Featherstone looked over to the sergeant at the defensive systems. “What’s happened to my defense?”

  Dorik looked up at Featherstone, a vacant look in his eye.

  The Skarak warship was only seconds from crackle beam range.

  “Spitz guns firing,” Cronin said. “High-energy laser firing. Mass beam powering up.”

  Then the blue crackle beam hit.

  The lights flickered around the command deck. A console blew out on one side, showering sparks that lit up the deck momentarily. Emergency lighting kicked in and washed the deck with a red glow.

  Featherstone climbed up into his command chair.

  “Sensors, surveillance,” Featherstone said. “Come on, Knole, let me see what’s going on out there.”

  Yanik Knole was a genius with the sensor array, but with main power fluctuating so wildly after the Skarak crackle beam, it was difficult. He transferred power from the mass beam and laser assembly to the sensors, bouncing the signal off a retreating freighter and snatching a glimpse of the battle outside.

  Featherstone saw the stuttering holo-image on his command chair armrest. The Resolute was dead in the void and being drawn into the belly of the Skarak mastership. The image was grainy and incomplete, with only a snatched moment of data here and there to build a scruffy image, but Featherstone could see one of the freighters already deep inside the belly of the mastership.

  “Doc, can you give me a combat drone?”

  “Just the one. Tubes are all loaded but only one set of tube doors are open. It’s set on maximum yield. It’s the only one, but its ready and at your command, sir.”

  Featherstone tugged his collar. “Target the Union freighter inside the mastership. Target her main reactor and fire.”

  Doc looked at Featherstone. “Sir?” he said, his voice quivering with concern. “She’s got a crew of twenty civilians, sir.”

  “And a cargo hold full of Black Ice. Fire. Now.”

  Doc Cronin launched the combat drone then dropped his head, his chin on his chest and a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

  “Drone away,” Knole said. “Contact.”

  The rumble that began to shake the ship grew more violent by the second. Conduits ruptured.

  “Main drive is online,” Hemel said. “Getting us out of here.”

  “Go,” Featherstone said. The main holo-stage flickered back to life. The scene showed a huge plasma explosion in the belly of the mastership. The force of the blast had thrown the Resolute clear of the mastership’s clutches, but a Skarak warship was already on her tail.

  Featherstone walked over to the defense console. Dorik was staring at it. The deflection shield and stability field were available, but offline.

  “Activate defensive systems, Sergeant,” Featherstone said. He waited, but Dorik made no move to do so. Finally, he pushed the sergeant aside and activated them himself.

  “Skarak warships falling behind,” Hemel said. “Do you want to give me a heading, sir?”

  Featherstone stared at Dorik. The big sergeant turned and looked at his commanding officer.

  “Umm, sir,” Dorik said, as if waking from sleep, “the defensive systems went offline.”

  Featherstone held Dorik with his stare. “Doc, take the sergeant to your med-bay and check him over. You hear me, Dorik? Go with Doc.”

  “I feel fine,” he said, shaking his head and staring around the command deck.

  Featherstone looked his sergeant up and down. One of the best sergeants he’d ever worked with. A great combat leader and a safe pair of hands at the defensive console. But not this time.

  “Let Doc check you over.” Featherstone could not shake the uncomfortable feeling that Dorik had badly slipped up.

  “The Skarak have taken four freighters, sir,” Knole said. “And the Faction raider killed two. Compiling all data. I have attempted to send an update to command, but communications are down.”

  Featherstone watched as Cronin led Dorik away.

  “We need to warn command that the Skarak are back. Set course for Supra.”

  The Resolute charged ahead, its drive throwing it across space, catching up to the convoy only to race past and leave it behind, making for the planet Supra with all speed.

  Featherstone looked at the defensive systems console. He ran back through the log. He could not believe what he saw. Sergeant Dorik had deactivated the defenses moments before the Skarak attacked. He trusted the sergeant, and no man aboard had shown more dedication to his uniform than Dorik.

  The systems would be checked at Supra. Firstly,
Featherstone needed to inform fleet command.

  The Skarak were back.

  7

  Boyd wrapped his jacket around his shoulders more tightly. The flight deck of the Odium Fist was cold. The frost from his breath covered the consoles across the flight deck. The Fist had been on minimal power for days and was only just warming up now that power was back online.

  The glow from the consoles only served to make the flight deck appear even colder than it was. The blue flickering light from a dozen consoles chilled Boyd.

  He moved to the communications and surveillance console. The Fist was still adrift in the gas giant’s clouds, being tugged around the huge planet by thousand kilometer-per-hour winds. It was tumbling but with the gravity field operating again, Boyd felt as if the Fist was drifting on a gentle stream. Occasionally, when the grav field fluctuated, he felt a wave of nausea as the true movement of the ship in the gas clouds became apparent.

  Moving to the defensive system console, Boyd felt a sudden fluctuation. The grav field failed momentarily and his feet drifted off the deck only for him to be pulled back down suddenly. He reached out to the console to steady himself as he dropped.

  The defensive systems were all operating. The deflection shielding was standing by. The hull stability field was at maximum, holding the Fist together as she spun wildly in the gas giant’s extreme winds.

  The weapons systems were standing by. The hail cannons were all online, but the Fist had expended most of its ordnance. Only the spitz guns remained as the Fist’s primary weapon.

  Boyd moved to the center of the flight deck. The pilot’s chair that he was so familiar with looked strange to him now. He had been running the entire ship for days. With his only shipmate, Thresh, still recovering from her injuries, he had been in command of the ship. His only objective was to get the Fist back into space and to continue his covert operation—to find Kitzov and have him brought to justice.